


A Secondary Time

by starsareoverrated



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Extremely Slow Burn, F/M, Hermione Granger-centric, Slow Burn, Under the Influence of Horcruxes, as not-voldemort ... yet, past dramione, tom riddle makes appearances, unexpected horcruxes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:27:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 15,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22033294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starsareoverrated/pseuds/starsareoverrated
Summary: Lily Evans finds a broken, bleeding Hermione Granger who has, apparently, been sent to 1977 by a certain blond Slytherin to save the Wizarding world before Voldemort takes it down in furious fires, and fuming darkness. New people, new loves, new timeline, and two heroines who shake up the very fiber of time - but can time be forgivable ?[ON HIATUS - NOT ABANDONED]
Relationships: James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Sirius Black/Hermione Granger
Comments: 14
Kudos: 50





	1. 1.

Lily Evans had been having a jolly good day before she saw the body.

In retrospect though, she thought that the girl _had_ looked pretty dead, what with her hair lying limp about her pale face which was bloodied and bruised to no end. More blood in a macabre spread around her, she was positively drenched in the red fluid and had been lying quite still. Even from afar - as Lily watched, a scream lodged in her throat - she could make out the death stiffness that characterized her limbs.

Later when she visited the girl - her hair was brown, brown curls - she would notice the telltale heaviness of dark magic around the sterile hospital room. She was positioned on the lumpy bed, covered with many, many bandages and still looking half dead. Lily looked down at her unconscious form, her brows furrowed as she took in the shaved strip of hair on the girl's head which was covered with some tight plaster, the little scar on her cheek, the otherwise unmarred face - a _beautiful_ face, she thought immediately - and wondered.

Petunia did not like the girl, she could tell, even though she visited sometimes to get out of the house. To meet her disgusting boyfriend, Dursley.

Petunia said that the nowhere girl felt like Lily did. Which the latter took to mean that somehow her dull, blonde sister had a sensor for magical people.

The hospital girl, the "nowhere girl" as Lily thought of her as, had been looking better as the doctors had worked on her broken ribs and leg. The bones were reset and plastered, and Lily wished she would soon turn seventeen so she could her. Her bruises were almost gone.

_She had scars._

_Lily hadn't noticed it at first, and thankfully the Muggle doctors hadn't either. But she had been there one afternoon, looking pensively at the boy in the picture in the girl's pocket. He'd had hair like someone she had seen at school. Someone quite familiar. The disillusionment charm had worn off, and she had seen the brand on her thin forearm._

_Mudblood_.

That night in bed, after waking up from nightmares of mutilated arms for what felt like the millionth time, she remembered with a jolt that the girl'd had a bag, and had been wearing a cloak.

She asked the nurse about the nowhere girl's belongings the next time she visited.

"You know I can't really give them to you, do you honey?"

"I know, ma'am," Lily replied, face downcast, the very picture of innocence.

A few minutes later she had the beaded bag in her hands after picking a certain lock near the reception area. It had involved a fair amount of flirting with the guy that sat in charge, but her skills had been sharpened after watching the infamous Marauders for a solid six years and she had nicked the bag _and_ the cloak.

The bag was warded, with _blood_ wards, it seemed.

The cloak was of an ultra fine quality that was soft even after being caked with blood.

"What happened to you?" Lily asked the nowhere girl. Light brown eyes stared back at her, looking _through_ her.

"You have beautiful eyes," the girl whispered in answer.

Flickering her gaze between both of _her_ eyes, Lily said urgently, "I can help you, if you tell me what happened. You were in pretty bad shape, and its taken almost all of July for you to wake up--and--I have _questions_."

"I don't doubt _that_. The question most relevant however, is this - can you handle the answers Lily Evans?" the girl asked with a look like sharp flint, all unfettered edges and unforgivable hardness. She was as separate from the invalid on the bed as could be, in that moment.

Lily jolted at the sound of her name, and, eyes wide, opened her mouth to speak before closing it again.

"How do you know my name?'' she asked, teeth gritted.

"I need to rest," was the answer before a placating, "for now."

Lily huffed but nodded.

"You will tell me, though?"

The nowhere girl hummed.

"What's _your_ name?"

"Hermione."


	2. 2.

Last she knew, Lily'd had a whole dictionary worth of questions for the nowhere girl. A week after their first conversation at the hospital, and the subsequent release of Hermione from the place, found both girls sitting in Lily's bedroom in Cokeworth, some ways away from the home of the only wizard in the area, Lily's former best friend - the illustrious Severus Snape.

As Lily regarded her companion, she could now truly observe the heaviness that followed her everywhere. It was the stench of dark magic, yes, but it was something worse too. It was the weight of loss, and Lily knew nothing about it; it was an abstract concept that she had luckily avoided so far.

"What, no twenty questions today, Lily Evans?" Hermione teased.

"I don't know which ones to ask," Lily admitted, fingering her pale green bedspread.

Hermione looked at her from underneath dark lashes, regarding her and said, "You ought to start from the beginning then, you will keep your own questions straight in your head that way without getting them jumbled up, or end up missing any."

Biting her lip, Lily asked, "Will you tell me the truth? Otherwise, the whole thing will be a complete waste of time and energy."

"I have no reason to lie to _you_."

"But you _will_ lie to others about your situation ?"

"I will simply have to - and you must do the same, or you won't know either."

"Doesn't that depend on what you tell me? If it is dangerous, I will tell someone at Hogwarts, preferably Professor McGonagall."

"She will believe you too. Aren't you going to be Head Girl this year? Isn't James Potter going to be Head Boy?" she asked mischievously.

"How do you - fine. I won't tell anyone you wouldn't want me talking to. You're too intriguing to pass up," Lily said firmly.

"Begin then, Lily Evans. May your curiosities be satisfied," Hermione said mockingly, a bitter tang to her voice as she shifted her torso to rest it against the wall that Lily's bed touched on one side, wincing.

"Okay then, what happened that day I found you?" Lily asked, tilting her head to one side and facing the other girl.

"Nothing happened _that day_ that you found me. Nothing pertaining to me, except -as you pointed out - you found me."

"Why're you so cryptic?"

"Spent a lot of time with cryptic secret hoarders," Hermione said and raised an eyebrow pointedly.

"Huh - I don't know what you mean by that look. Tell me then, why were you there, where I found you?"

"I was sent there - for reasons you will know soon."

"Why there? I'm the only witch in the area for some miles around - does it have something to do with me?", Lily asked, somehow knowing the affirmative answer already.

"It does. You are the only one brilliant enough to help me", Hermione said, tracing the cast of her leg.

Lily looked at the mending limb with regret but the thought of her upcoming birthday cheered her up.

"I'm sorry. You seem to know a lot about me - but I don't know you. I don't know you from Hogwarts, and I'm not familiar with the wizarding community personally."

"Let me be blunt then - I'm from the future, 1999 to be precise and Voldemort has won. I was the only one sane enough to be sent back to prevent that from happening," Hermione said.

Lily stared. "Only - _only one sane?!!_ What about your friends, teachers, what the hell _happened_ ? God, what -"

Hermione held up a hand, and began the most outrageous story that Lily would hear for the rest of her time. 

( The story swam in her head for a long time)

A good half hour later: "I still don't know how I am connected to _your_ future," Lily sighed.

Hermione smirked. " You're the mother of my best friend - and no I'm not telling you who it is."

"Umm, so. What does it mean exactly, that you've already changed things?" Lily asked.

"For one thing, Hermione Granger will not be born in 1979 to Helen and Richard Granger. It is a sacrifice that I've had to make - not having my own parents know me - but it is not the first time that I've made it. "

"Then it'll be someone else who will be born?"

"As far as I know - they may not have any children at all."

Lily looked at her, green eyes shining brightly, and saw her again as someone who could, and would make incomprehensible sacrifices, if it meant that You- Know -Who would be gone.

"That sounds like dark magic."

Hermione smiled a wan smile. ''All part of the parcel, Evans.''

"You're very brave, if it wasn't already apparent, it is now. To not have your parents at the same time as having them exist, but be oblivious to you - it is a hard decision," she said sincerely.

"It doesn't make the regret any less harsh," Hermione said in a low voice.

Lily touched her fingertips to hers, and whispered, "Necessary things often demand something - but if it means anything at all to you, _I_ think your original decision of obliviating your parents was correct. Harsh, yes, but necessary."

"It means everything, Lily."

"Will you tell me the whole story, one day?," the redhead asked.

"Yes, you should know. Whatever new reality we forge will undoubtedly have losses and pain, but it will always, _always_ be better than the one I've left behind."


	3. 3.

It had been somewhat strange for Lily to share her bedroom with Hermione, as the only person that she had previously shared her room with, was Petunia and that had been sufficiently unpleasant in their adolescence. It was therefore with relief that she noted that Hermione was an easy person to live with, not stuffy and plenty efficient.

She had introduced Hermione to her parents as a friend from Hogwarts and that had effectively ended Petunia's interactions with her roommate. She had relayed that Hermione would be staying with them for a day more in addition to her previous two already, as was requested by the girl herself. Her parents had been welcoming towards her and had included her in their household with warmth.

But what would Hermione do after that ? Lily wondered about this aloud to her, and the witch in question answered that she had enough funds to get her by.

"I'll stay at the Leaky Cauldron. Don't worry about me, just focus on practicing occlumency. It is imperative that you close off your mind from others because of the--you know... "

She shrugged in indication to the sensitive information that had been shared between them. Lily nodded.

"I'll be seeing you at Hogwarts either way, and will be quite safe in Diagon Alley. Voldemort is not that active right now," Hermione pointed out.

The very next day, Hermione woke Lily up early. Lily blinked as she tried to see in the dark of her room, finally making out Hermione's silhouette.

"Whassamatter?" She grumbled.

"Just telling you that I'm going to the Leaky. I'll owl you when I reach." Hermione said.

"Oh - okay, be safe. I'll meet you in a few days for school shopping, if that's okay ?"

"Of course. Practice meditation, I'll give you lessons in Occlumency later when you've achieved acceptable self compartmentalization. See you, Lily."

She wouldn't call Hermione her friend, as of yet. Part of it was the impersonal nature of their conversations; everything Lily knew of the future was like a story to her. It had been intended that way, she realized. She oscillated between extreme anxiety and deep fear, the former reflecting her desire to learn more and the latter, her immediate reaction to bringing the war upon her head sooner than she had anticipated. She was afraid and despite belonging to the house of the brave Godric Gryffindor, she could not let go of the chill that had settled in her bones at the prospect of getting in the thick of the upcoming bloodbath. The way Hermione had spoken though, made it clear that she wanted minimum damage. Would that even be possible?

She was only a girl of sixteen. Could she do something as altering, as shifting, as play with time?

From the things that Hermione had told her, it must indeed have been very dire circumstances that must have happened for her to go to an entirely different generation for help. She had mentioned her son, but Lily did not think about it much because the idea and the desire for home life was far from her mind.

A smaller part of her was skeptical about the whole matter.

Her birthday rolled around on a Friday, the day after she received her shiny, new Head Girl badge and regulation Hogwarts letter. She penned a note to Hermione to let her know she would be in Diagon on Monday, when the crowds would've dispersed after the weekend.

The owl, her Titus, was back within the hour.

_Dear Lily,_

_Happy Birthday! I have, however, already healed my leg after listening to you go on about wanting to do it for so long. Shot an Episkey at it immediately when I apparated to Diagon. I'm eager to meet you again. Dumbledore has accepted my admission request, after seeing my transfer letters from Beauxbatons ( as if!). Also, I happen to be my mother's sister. Paradoxes and all that rot._

_Hermione_

Lily snickered. It _was_ amazing, to wake up two decades in the past, and find yourself your own aunt.

The hospice had been dreary. The nurses had been tough handlers. The smell of medicines overpowering. The doctor tolerable.

But Lily Evans had been the cherry in the charcoal cake.

Hermione had heard whatever she had about Harry's mother from Remus, Sirius, Professor McGonagall and that was it. They hadn't told her that the fiery girl was almost Hermione herself - with her stubborn questions, inquisitive nature and quick thinking. In short, she was a comfort in a foreign time, and a familiar pair of eyes that made her muscles involuntarily seize up in panic, but with enough warmth and innocence that Hermione hated to take her most beguiling characteristics and sharpen them.

She did not miss Lily, she told herself in the dank room at the Leaky Cauldron, where her only companions were the stupid talking mirror and the owner, Tom (ironically) who gave her early wake up calls.

Every morning when she lay in that place between sleep and consciousness, she wished for the whistle of the cold, winter wind and the tightening of _his_ arm around her midsection. She avoided opening her eyes, delaying reality, wishing for freedom, and knowing that she could not yet have it. Even when she would, and she vowed to herself that she _would_ , it would be empty. For her, at least. Nothing could replace the brief haven she'd found one summer morning after the failed Battle of Hogwarts.

She'd been alone for a few months by then, and had been scrambling for her wand, in a rare unguarded moment when she had heard an unmistakable drawl.

"Put down the wand, Granger. It's taken me this long to find you, don't make me wait a lifetime."

Her heart had teared up, eyes had welled up and her vision had failed her, but his scent was there, _right in front of her_ \- hanging in the air between them, the separation too much and too long to bear.

His name tumbled from her chapped lips. The most important name in the world to her.

_"Draco."_

"Hey."

Hermione looked up from her perusal of the Daily Prophet to the radiant, weary face of Lily Evans. Her read hair was pulled back in a high ponytail and she carried a small purse in one hand. Hermione smiled.

"Lily!" she said gaily, injecting the proper amount of cheer to her voice. "How are you?"

"Bit nervous. Ever since you dropped that bucket load of temporal problems on me, I've slept with my wand under my pillow ," Lily said, letting loose a stilted laugh.

Hermione could not honestly say that she could understand what emotion ran through Lily at that moment, for she had been contending with danger for the majority of her life, and normal did not exactly exist. It was second nature for her to keep her wand at the ready, to keep all senses perked up, and to be on guard against the slightest of out-of-turn things.

To dispel the need to provide comfort to the other witch, for she did not _do_ comfort--Lavendar and her rabbit incident was testimony to that--she said instead, "Why don't we go to the bookstore first and browse non-academic books while you tell me what exactly you're holding out on me and I will put an end to it?"

There was a stern note to that statement that did not go unnoticed by Lily, who narrowed her eyes, and spat, "Fine, _let's_."

Hermione smirked a borrowed smirk, which put Lily even further on edge.


	4. 4.

September first dawned sooner than Hermione would've liked; she found herself not quite strong enough to return to the site where the last whiff of hope had been extinguished in her time.

The day itself was a deviation from the dreary London weather in that it appeared to shine ever golden, the sun's rays beating steadily upon her back as she stood in Diagon Alley, the store fronts gleaming so bright that she avoided looking at them head on. Low hoots of owls, the yowls of irritated cats, the scuttling creatures that she could not identify, all beckoned to her from inside the Magical Menagerie. She had walked by the store everyday, contemplating the feasibility of getting herself a familiar and always turning back due to the sudden foreboding that crept upon her. In the end, she put the idea completely out of her mind--she could still see Crookshanks' orange fur whipping out of sight behind her, gone forever.

Some distance away, she spied the apothecary and recalled the unpleasant encounter that she had had with young Snape there. He had been disdainful and had almost shoved her into a vat of beetle eyes, claiming she had been blocking his way. How Lily had ever befriended him, she didn't understand but what she did was this: Snape would never knowingly put Lily in danger.

Hermione hadn't let anything about Snape's love for Lily be known to the latter.

Casting a Tempus charm, she sighed and rubbed the flesh over her heart, unsuccessfully trying to lessen the sharp stings that had flared up. Lately, no matter what she tried, the weight of her voyage had been stifling her and with no one around to share her burden, she had started to bow to the heaviness. She smoothed her expression, not adept at portraying false positive emotion but certainly capable of being aloof.

The train ride had been uneventful and numbing. Hermione felt like a spectator, watching herself board, finding a compartment occupied by two lower year students who were too busy stacking up Chocolate Frog cards to pay any heed to her. The sun climbed up the horizon and descended on the other side. The picturesque scenery whirred by in a blur of green. The sky opened up in warmth.

Hermione sat, in shock.

It was something of note, however, that the shock was at least better than the pain. The oblivion was certainly better, by no means ideal--because tainted emotions still wavered in the background--but she wasn't complaining.

Rolling in at Hogsmeade Station, the train slowed to a stop and the usual ruckus of hundreds of students filled the air.

Hermione changed her clothes with a flick of her wand, the 70's style uniform not much changed from her own time. Leaving her luggage, just the trunk, she stepped out onto the platform. She saw Lily's red hair swinging in the distance and turned away. The other girl had asked Hermione if she would like to sit with her friends, or with Lily herself in the Heads' Compartment but she had declined without giving a reason and had not been pushed further for one. Hermione wanted to be alone, just like she truly was and would always be, in a time outside of hers that felt more secondary than anything else.

She climbed into a carriage with some other girls who laughed and talked with one another in good humor, she was content to be ignored. She ignored the questioning looks they shot her, pretending at being lost in thoughts when actually, her mind had gone strangely blank.

Somewhere, shining in front of the carriages, loomed Hogwarts castle. She tasted the magic in the air, and her heart beat faster and faster with the thestrals' steady trot.

Too soon, they stopped and Hermione followed the students up the stairs, into the Entrance Hall, to the side of which stood Professor McGonagall. Her favorite teacher, once--who had _laid down her life for her--_ looked at her in abstract recognition and motioned her over.

"You must be Miss Granger," she said, peering at her closely. At her nod, she continued. "Welcome to Hogwarts. The Headmaster has informed the staff about your situation. I offer my condolences on the loss of your parents. Your sorting...will be done right now, before the First Years..." she turned to look inside the open gate of the Great Hall, presumably checking whether all the students were seated. "Follow me, Miss Granger."

Her throat closed up and she tried to banish the last look she'd had of the same Hall, destroyed beyond anything and littered with bodies upon bodies, so many indeed that she could not identify which had been a friend and which had not. In the center had stood the creature that had devoured her world whole and spat it out, sucked of all life and stinking of something she was sure had grown in hell.

The students turned in their seats to look at the late arrival. She tried her best to focus only in front and walk in a straight line. Looking at Dumbledore, he motioned for her to face the doors, and, as she did, he spread his arms to the sides to quell the students' clamor.

"Due to circumstances outside of the ordinary, I have been compelled to bend a rule that allows only students of eleven to start at our school." The Hall went hush. "I would like to introduce Miss Hermione Granger, who will be a seventh year student and will attend classes here at Hogwarts and will now be sorted into her house, which I hope will be welcoming towards her."

Hermione stepped forward. Instead of telling her to sit on the stool, Dumbledore plucked the dusty hat up and placed it on her head.

It didn't cover her eyes anymore but she found herself unfocused on the Hall and the curious eyes of the students. The hat was silent for several moments, which was a deviation from her _original_ sorting wherein it had debated rather heatedly about whether to place her in Slytherin or Gryffindor or Ravenclaw, the middle one being deemed appropriate and all else her fate.

_You are colored with sacrifice, Miss Granger...with courage and with craftiness. You have a goal, a mission...and you are brave to take it on. There are many colors that would welcome you, but they would also stifle you - the only one that would bring you fortitude...is red..._

"GRYFFINDOR!" The hat roared out loud.

When she sat at the Gryffindor table by Lily who had called her over and introduced her to the other girls, she saw someone watching her closely. She looked at him with narrowed eyes, and had to clamp her hands upon her knees to stop them shaking when she saw eyes like _his_ \- gray like storm clouds, but silvery - staring intently at her from under sharp _black_ eyebrows, and equally _black, shoulder length_ hair, artfully tousled. Her heart went galloping, racing wildly when the boy grinned roguishly, and promptly deadened in relief when she realized who it was.

_Sirius Black._

Who else could it be beside him, she thought in wry amusement, but a Harry replica with wrong eyes, a young professor and a fat, little rat?

She had trouble sleeping. Granted, she'd always slept badly if she wasn't with Draco, but she wished--she wished so hard that her head hurt with the expended effort--that she could have just one full night of sleep. An idea formed in her mind. Getting out of the four poster bed in the dorm, she looked at the sleeping forms of Mary MacDonald, Alice Brown and Marlene McKinnon, and then at her trunk at the foot of her bed. Opening it, she rummaged through it till she found her beaded bag. A wand less _Accio_ brought a slim object to her fingers.

A perfect ten inches and made of hawthorn, she brought _Draco's wand_ to eye level - the thrum of magic running through it still - and breathed heavily through her nose.

She closed her eyes. Held out the wand in front of her at shoulder height. White blond hair flashed in her mind's eye. Her grip tightened. _She tried not to think of the last time_. Instead, she thought about the first. Sixth year, empty Potions classroom, only him and her. She recalled how she felt when she received her first kiss from none other than Slytherin's illustrious bad boy. How her blood had boiled and rushed and lifted her heart in her chest above its normal confines.

Keeping her eyes closed, she whispered, " _Expecto Patronum_."

She stared at the patronus for hours.

When the sun shone through the curtains, she was fast asleep, having finally received more than her minimum amount of rest.


	5. Chapter 5

She had been growing listless and increasingly detached. Two weeks into term, Hermione had already come close to her breaking point far too many times. She had pushed up her Occlumency skills _hard_ ; and even so, she could feel her control slipping.

Down, down the rabbit hole, she dropped.

Transfiguration lessons in which she wouldn't have dared to take her attention off of Professor McGonagall in her time, found her eyes moving in the windows' direction. The air, so free, so separate from her made her yearn for flight. Her wings fluttered uselessly in the recesses of her mind, where once she had flown high and now down she went.

The nights saw Hermione repeatedly casting the patronus, using only Draco's wand and not her own. It was, after all, _his_ patronus--his panther, sleek and dangerous, like the Slytherin he had been.

How long could she keep this up? She wondered sometimes when she sat high in the Astronomy tower, staring at the surrounding lands and feeling more trapped than ever. She had to remind herself that she had a mission, and that the very fate of the world sat in her palm and it would be exceedingly easy to squander away this one chance.

It was also, she thought, very easy to redirect herself with fervor when she thought of Draco's ultimate act of selflessness--in her eyes, it was such, but he insisted it was to his happiness that she would contribute if she went along with the most insane plan of all time--and his bravery, which pushed her forward without fail.

Her breath escaped her in a sigh, and she continued to search for solace in the wide open skies.

Lily had observed the silent downward slope that Hermione was balancing on. Everyday she looked at the brunette and anxiety shot through her like a live-wire. The girl was, in all senses, unresponsive to human closeness.

Lily had though that there could've been some growth in their interactions when they had come to Hogwarts, as was to be expected since Hermione spent Lily's every free evening training her in Occlumency. She was a good teacher and was pretty relentless. Despite her obvious turmoil, she had not slacked off on Lily's training, and was pushing her harder each time they met.

She was personally pleased whenever she received a compliment for her efforts, because they were few and far in between. Through all this, two things-- _boys_ , actually--had been pestering her for different reasons that were more connected than was suspected by aforementioned hormone-riddled males.

Every morning at breakfast, she was accosted by her fellow Head and his best friend.

Case in point:

"Evans... _Lily--_ its been six years this September," James started again on a Thursday in the second week after their return. "End my agony, and please, go out with me?" he begged, flashing her a grin, his hazel eyes flashing.

Before giving her a chance to reply, Black--of all people--snatched her toast out of her hands, and, passing it to James, whispered conspiratorially to her, "He's obsessed with watching you eat, Evans. The idea of other things near your mouth...hmm, let's say it's a recurring fantasy of his... _also_ , you did not answer _my_ question," he wagged his eyebrows.

She glared at him hotly while James gnashed his teeth at Sirius, eyes wide and afraid of what else could be revealed. Somewhere to her side, a seat away, Peter Pettigrew sniggered. The Black heir only grinned wider and took a sip of some orange juice.

Lily huffed and took up another toast. Biting off a piece, she looked at James' imploring look and shook her head. To Black, she said, "I've told you this _many_ times: Hermione Granger is to be spared your jokes and innuendos and your general annoying presence. She's my friend, and I don't want you bothering her."

"Maybe she _wants_ me to bother her," he shot back, brushing his shiny black hair behind one ear.

"Does her obvious avoidance not give you enough idea? Look, she's here, and don't you _dare_ bother her. _No pranks_!" she hissed. Turning around in her seat, she waved at Hermione who had taken a seat at a spot near the end of the table. Sirius got up suddenly, looking hopefully at the late arrival to breakfast. She yanked him back by his sleeve.

"Potter! Get your stupid friend to lay off mine."

"Pads, come back and don't slobber over the new girl."

Paying them both no attention, Sirius ambled over to Hermione only to be grabbed by an incoming Remus Lupin by the collar.

Lily sighed in relief. She wanted to give Hermione the space that the girl clearly needed, and Sirius Black lusting after her would set her back even further into her maudlin moods.

"Don't bother the pretty witch, Sirius, or Lily will start taking points," Remus said blandly when they reached their usual spot. Ignoring James' attempts to entice her into a lunch in the kitchens-- _by themselves--_ she glared at the offender.

"He's right. Thank you, Remus-- _you_ should have been Head Boy." She looked pointedly at the real Head and grimaced.

Potter withered.

Two seats away, Marlene McKinnon scowled at Sirius, and Lily snorted in silent glee.

It had been rather frosty between the two since they had broken up last term, despite it being obvious to everyone that they were still on-and-off every other day.

Of course, she wouldn't let Sirius Black near someone as non frivolous as Hermione. She was going to look out for her.

Yes, Sirius would've another thing coming if he acted like the impulsive brat he was.

A Lily not-so-sweet.

_There are many hurdles in her plan. Somehow, when being on the run with Draco, she had never asked him to teach her the technique for controlling Fiendfyre._

_It has come back to bite her in the arse, and now, she has another thing to master along with teaching Lily Occlumency, keeping herself out of the spotlight--any that had been accorded to her for being the one transfer student at Hogwarts in_ _**years** _ _has worn off--keeping her actual intentions from Lily herself, and trying to control the voice in her head that screamed bloody murder at the slightest of irritants that she encountered._

_At that time, it had been far, far too important to kiss Draco deeper and hold him closer and make love with him every few hours._

_She had never known how hungry she was, until she was hooked on his addicting voice, deep due to his arousal and whispering down her skin like the softest of feathers._

_He had repainted her in his colors, sharp and red like the edge of a sinful sword bathed in the light of passion, and she had readily drowned in him, time and time again, until she was no more sure of the independence of her own essence than she was of their uncertain future._

_Dripping with sweat, they'd lain close, watching the seasons pass for months and months from the gap in the tent where the flap had been pinned away. The colors of nature changed, and so did they, until every other reality than the one they had created was washed away in the passing of time._

_The faces of her friends (every last one of them, dead) became memory and she clung to the last one she would not relinquish, but eventually had had to._

_Fiendfyre had been the last thing from her mind._

Hermione averted her honey brown eyes from the parchment on her desk, already complete with the answers to their Charms test and looked around at Lily, sitting to her right. As she waited for her to finish, so they could pass inane, coded notes--ranging from little anecdotes of her own time to Lily's queries about the obscure branches of magic Hermione intended for them to both to practice--she inadvertently found her gaze snagged by Sirius Black's.

God, why wouldn't he just _lay off_?

She closed her eyes and started rechecking her answers.

They were correct. The prickling at the back of her neck remained however, and she knew that he would be staring at her, the idiot. She caught Remus' sheepish grin at her refusal to look at his friend and she shook her head wryly at the lot of them.

It had been a new experience for Hermione to have been so popular at school that nearly everyone was either after her skirt--cue Sirius and a lot of other boys, even Slytherins, expected though it was, remembering Theo Nott and Blaise Zabini's incessant teasing at school, or after her brain--cue Remus.

Her secretive nature and mysterious past had pulled the inquisitive Slytherins in her direction, disregarding her blood status temporarily. History was repeating itself, or rather, the future was--in any case, there were some things that time couldn't help but showcase again on the stage that is the world.

That night, Remus' innocent and burden-free expression churned her mind for ideas. She traced her fingers wonderingly over Draco's wand, the beginnings of hope taking shape inside her. As form and solidification fortified her plan, she sprang up from her bed and hurriedly stashed her wand and Draco's in a pocket of her robe.

Less than a minute later, she was exiting the Common Room under the invisibility cloak, heading towards a certain room on the seventh floor.

As luck would have it, she collided with the very boy who happened to own her cloak's present iteration, who was also, it appeared, using it with his fellow Marauder.

"Ouch! Pads--there's someone...shit-"

Eyes wide, Hermione checked her own Marauders Map. How did she miss the boys coming? There were two dots clustered in a space a few feet ahead of her. Her head throbbed where she had knocked it on something and she stashed the map into her cloak.

She made to sidestep the matter entirely, but -

"Who's there?" The Head Boy spoke up. She grit her teeth, not answering.

"Speak up, or the Head Boy will be forced to dock points," a slightly teasing voice, deep and clearly belonging to Sirius Black taunted.

Again she remained silent.

A muffled thwack sounded from their general direction.

"What the _hell_ , Pads! You just outed me--yes, whoever it is, show yourself and you may be spared detention."

How irresponsible were the two of them? She balked at the very idea of revealing herself by now, but they would immediately know it when she moved, just as they knew exactly who was out past curfew.

This was bad. Bad, bad, bad.

_Confund them._ She startled badly at the voice. It had clearly come from her own mind. She couldn't _believe_ it. Going around confunding people left and right whenever she was in a spot of trouble? That was so not her.

Besides, they were talking about James, who was the Head. He was always spending large amounts of time with Lily on account of Head duties, and she would immediately know what was going on. She was bright that way, that Lily Evans.

_There are_ _ **other**_ _ways of bending people to your will._ This was getting quite freaky. Other ways?

During her internal monologue, it seemed that the two boys were discussing something amongst themselves, considering the shushed voices.

_You could make them_ _ **forget**_ _..._ the voice trilled, stressing the last word.

_Or_ _ **I**_ _could shove_ _ **you**_ _into a pit of fire._ She seethed at the hissed suggestion, putting up her mental shields. Faint laughter echoed inside her skull, startling her again.

Coming to a decision, she quickly whipped her cloak off of her and immediately stuffed it into her cloak pocket, so none of her unexpected companions would recognize the rippling fabric.

"It's me, James."

A swishing sound, followed by a quickly whipped out-of-sight cloak brought forth her two busters. Equally dark head of hair on their heads, they both grinned at one another.

"Granger--you're out past curfew. I'm afraid I'm going to have to dock points," James said, jerking his neck to one side, as if it had a crick.

"If you do that, then it is only fair that you dock some _more_ points due to _your_ friend, who is neither prefect nor head, and seeing as it is so far beyond curfew that even if he had been the former, he would've earned himself _at least_ a detention," she pointed out primly, determinedly not looking at the silver eyed boy next to him.

They shared a look amongst themselves.

"Nevertheless, Sirius was with me and had permission. You don't have either excuse."

They both looked so smug that Hermione didn't even feel bad about what she said next. "You want me tell Lily about your unfair treatment--since I'm sure no teacher in their right mind would give Black a permission slip?"

James paled. "Oi-" Sirius started, but she shot him a venomous look which did the trick of shutting him up. That look had shut up fiercer wizards than the one in front of her.

She continued, crossing her arms over her chest, "What're you doing sneaking about anyway? You can go practically anywhere you want." She directed this to James, since he was the obvious weak link and had more to lose.

It had not escaped her notice that Sirius was uncharacteristically subdued around her, not just now, but every time she was in the vicinity, he seemed to withdraw into some kind of shell and she didn't know how to work with that.

"Force of habit," Sirius gritted out at last. Gracing him with a cursory look, she spread her palms open and turned them in front of her in an appeasing gesture.

"Here's what's going to happen. You're both going to let me go wherever I want, and in turn _I_ will keep your slithery behavior from Lily. It's clearly more suspicious than mine," she stated in a tone that brokered no argument.

"I can't just do that. You could be doing something-"

"Dangerous? Sneaky? I was just going to the kitchens, Potter."

James and Sirius blinked, not having expected that.

"Who told you where the kitchens are?" Sirius asked slowly.

"Remus." She shrugged.

James exhaled heavily, and then looked at Hermione with a ghost of smile. Then, turning his head heavenwards, he spoke, as if in a song, "The things I do for you, Lily flower!"

Hermione struggled to control her expression, which became even more difficult when she caught sight of Sirius who was snickering into the palm of his hand, his long black hair falling across his face, gray eyes on her.

She looked away. "Do we have an agreement?"

Till the early hours of morning, when the rest of the student body was fast asleep, Hermione Granger practiced the wand movements for casting Fiendfyre.

She couldn't wait to destroy Voldemort, once and for all, to cause him the pain that would inevitably come with the knowledge that he was fallible, and that he was mortal--when _she_ turned him again that way--and that she was going to do him the worst of all turns that he could fathom.

She would send him to Death's doors, come hell or high water. Even if it meant her own life--which she already treated with callous disregard.


	6. Chapter 6

Hermione's twentieth birthday arrived with much avoidance of the occasion by her. She couldn't help but wonder at her last birthday, and how very happy she had been _then_ \- despite the carnage that was being wrought around her.

It had been the happiest, the best birthday of her entire life and she had been content with the knowledge that she was safe--however relatively--and that she was with the love of her life--the boy she had loved since she was sixteen, probably longer.

The foreseeable future had been bleak, but she and Draco had found little shining spots of cheer along their way.

On the nineteenth of September, she woke up early - not because she had to, but because it was a goddamned _Monday_. There were no presents, as was usual since as long as she could remember.

Her parents had always bought her books or took her to a museum and that had been that. She had always shrugged off the fact that Ron and Harry had never bought her anything either; if they remembered to wish her at all, _that_ had been miraculous.

When she thought about it, Draco had been the only one who had gotten her an actual, meaningful gift--not that books weren't nice, but it was a tad too repetitive. He had given her gifts on every birthday following her seventeenth one, even in the middle of war; in the midst of dark days--he had found her.

_I_

_n you, and you alone, I see goodness, and then I can hope._

She dressed with slow movements, feeling ten times her age. Her hair was pulled back with an elastic tie and was finally out of her face. As she saw what she had become, she found that she was much altered; the idealistic girl was dead and this was somebody else.

_I agree._ Her own demon spoke, waking up from death's slumber. The person in the mirror stared back with dead eyes at her real self. Or was she the true illusion, the farce of reality, but somehow real, sentient enough to be seen by other truly alive people? She had no business caring about her appearance anyway.

A light snore from Alice's bed sounded and she shuffled out of the dormitory.

She went for a long walk around the lake. She breathed the air as if it was artifice, and expelled it like a burden too much to fully internalize.

Lily found her there, standing at the edge of the lake, but looking as if it was the last shore in the world and below was the hellish abyss of oblivion.

_She wanted to vanish into oblivion._

"Hermione..." Lily whispered, her voice impossibly soft as she fiddled about with her hands. She finally placed one on Hermione's shoulder, the bone prominent beneath.

Hermione shuddered wildly, breathing hard. She couldn't speak, couldn't look at Lily. At her ghostly, green eyes, couldn't face pity and couldn't face the girl herself.

"You can tell me," she continued, her words sounding fragmented. Hermione shook her head.

"I really... _really_ can't-"

"Yes, you _can_. You can trust me, Hermione, you know that. _I_ trust _you_ , and I don't even fully know how I'm central to this whole time-travel-change-the-world-mission, but I _do_."

"It's _too much_ , Lily!" she cried, shaking her head. "If I tell you, you'll be like me too."

Lily bit her lip, worrying it as she worried her mind about how to approach the distraught witch under her hand. She came up empty--she didn't know grief, not yet, except in those stories of the future that hadn't come to pass--but she dug into her deep compassionate inner vaults, and she said, "Let me share the pain."

It was the best thing she could offer. It was the _only_ thing she could offer.

Hermione looked at her then, sideways. Considering, weighing, deciding...she opened her mouth to speak.

"I miss my...my-- _everybody_. I miss everybo--It's my _birthday --_ and I just, in my time, everything was just coming crashing down. It seems real, Lily. I can feel it, it's in my bones, it is everywhere," she rambled, fresh tears making their sting known. "I want...to tell you, but I can't. Not yet, not when I can't know that _I_ can handle it. Please, don't ask me more than I can offer, don't ask me, don't ask too much of me. I know I've asked the world of you, Lily, but please, _please._.."

She sank to the ground. Lily following, her own eyes brimming full of tears. There were words inside her; she could taste them on her tongue, she could feel her mouth form them, but she stopped herself for the sake of the girl in her arms.

For she was really in her arms for the first time; she was snugly nestling her head into the hollow of Lily's throat and it made her tear up at the stiffness of even that vulnerable gesture.

They both rocked lightly, in congruence with Hermione's silent sobs. Her brown hair was pressed against Lily's cheek, and they both watched their tears mingle on their way down. Somehow, in the air, their sorrow--one raw, one commiserative--collided and fell down onto their bare knees

_The spring cries tears; the winter, snow._ They shed something else altogether, and the cries of both echoed, in the shadowed halls of a warring world.

"Happy birthday. I can't believe you're two years older than the rest of us."

"Yeah, me neither. My bones are creaking. Hurry child--put on the hot water," Hermione joked wryly, vaguely pointing one hand.

She didn't smile, but Lily still considered it a victory of sorts. It was a facet of her personality that Lily had never seen before.

They had both been more open with each other than they had ever dared to before. Lily had started to get the gist of the absolute hell that Voldemort would forge the world into, were he to live past the October of 1981, for that was the date that Hermione had told her she planned for him to die.

The how was not specified, neither was her insistence that it _would_ be at the proposed time. Then, and _only_ _then_ , she had stressed.

Lily believed her without a batted eyelash. She would follow this girl to the end of the world, she was sure. Her honesty shone purely from within her, and although she still kept things from her, Lily was okay with it. She knew the rest would come in time.

Hermione told her about a supposed prophecy, but withheld the actual contents of said prophecy. Said that it was the key, but not the _sole_ key. Said that immortality was chased, and achieved by Voldemort. Said she and her friends had destroyed him bit by bit, and would've succeeded in going the whole way, if not for Bellatrix Lestrange.

Said something about **horcruxes**.

"We've never discussed this before, but I wonder, why don't you tell Professor Dumbledore? I mean, he's kind of the prime authority on killing dark lords," Lily interjected, when once they had lapsed into silence.

Fury built up inside her, climbing up her throat like lava and erupting from her lips. "Albus Dumbledore is a vi-" she paused.

Licking her lips, she tried again, " -a manipulative man, and I don't trust him _not_ to fuck up what I've made sure is a solid plan to defeat Voldemort."

She had almost verbally lashed Dumbledore. Her resentment at him aside, for giving them feeble clues, and sending them on a half-cocked mission, she hadn't actually _hated_ the man, and had quite respected him for his unquestionable magical prowess.

Lily looked a bit skewed. Albus Dumbledore _was_ the most powerful wizard of her time, and for Hermione to speak against him sent little warning bells ringing through her mind. Not so much at suspicion of the girl, though she regarded her with shrewd eyes, but more so at the uncertainty that crept up in her mind.

"I know it's hard to believe that the Headmaster is anything less than ideal, but he _withheld_ crucial information from us, Lily. Its part of why we couldn't win the first time. The information was correct, but had we received it timely, we would've been more prepared," Hermione said. "Not to mention, there are... _things--_ temptations _\--_ that can lead even Dumbledore astray, and I won't risk that."

If they were to need help, if they were in dire need, could they count on Dumbledore? Lily thought and asked Hermione as much.

The latter paused, and seriously weighed the question, but answered surely, "He won't refuse us help. If he's interested enough, and if we somehow stir his sympathies the right way at the right time, we could count on him to get us out of potentially dangerous situations. Though we would have to muster up quite a story if he were, to say, _able_ to catch us doing something even remotely dark."

Lily hummed. She sighed and closed her eyes. "When did the world become monumentally more fucked up than it already was?"

Hermione scoffed a laugh, startled at the sound. "During all the brainless hours spent at dear old _Slug Club_."

Lily laughed freely. Getting up from her bed in the Head Girl room, she pulled on a sweater and tugged Hermione up.

"It's your birthday," Lily started. Hermione looked at her in question, her head tilted. "There's no cake."

Hermione's eyed widened, and she opened up her mouth to protest, but Lily was already wrapping a light scarf around Hermione's neck.

Her words were shot down by Lily, who, in the next half hour, broke her first major rule by sneaking out of Hogwarts--on a _Monday_ , during _classes--_ with another student in tow.

It would be later, when an eventful day would be darkening, that they would learn how their absence had gone unnoticed.

They were sitting at a table in the Three Broomsticks after having won over Madam Rosmerta by flashing the birthday card in front of her and sipping warm butterbeers, between exchanging harmless stuff about the Muggle world, when Lily said something that had been plaguing her mind since she first met Hermione.

"Why d'you wear that ring?" she asked, referring to the masculine emerald-encrusted ring on a thin, silver chain around Hermione's neck.

It was an insignia ring, but Lily hadn't looked closely enough to figure out the finer details. She had first noticed it when Hermione had been out cold in the Muggle hospital. It had slipped sideways and out of the flimsy clinical robe. Lily hadn't touched it.

Now she noticed how still Hermione had gone. Unnaturally still, brown eyes fixed on hers unblinkingly, she touched her ring - which had again slipped out from under her shirt when she had removed the scarf. A _look_ stole over her face, plunging Lily's heart into cold nothingness. It was an utterly, utterly, _destroyed_ look. Hermione breathed out, panting slightly, and then the look was gone.

"It's not mine, not really," she said slowly in a steady voice. Lily was sure she wouldn't have been able to speak so clearly had it been she who was wearing that look. "It belonged, to...someone I love very much. And...its one of the last things I have of him, so...I keep it near my heart. Where it belongs."

She sipped her butterbeer, the warmth doing nothing to chase the frost that settled over her upon hearing one more tidbit of Hermione's past-pseudo-future.

"Yeah?" Lily said softly, trying to be tactful. "Who was-is he?" She stumbled over appropriate verb usage, tempted to say - 'who will he be?'

A swallow ran the length of Hermione's throat as she tried to quiet the drumming in her ears. She spoke, and as she spoke, another voice inside her added silent commentary.

_Silly boy, he'd been. The Malfoys, always the same..._

"He used to be our school rival, you know, like your Severus and Potter and Black are."

_Don't you dare_ _speak of_ _him_ _,_ she raged at the voice.

"We used to be quite antagonistic. I mean, my friends and I all got off on the wrong foot with him almost the very first day, right on the train. From then on, it was the stupidest, most trivial spat that lasted six years."

_I shall speak of whomever you ply me with._

"If it was as bad as what goes on _now_ , however did you get with him?" Lily asked.

_The boy fell into your lap, didn't he?_ _ **Fool**_...

"Well, it was, in all honesty, a blood war in all the ways you can interpret it. He was _such_ a bigot," she smiled feebly, fondly. "He was a Slytherin." Lily raised her brows.

"Yeah, it was everything he'd been raised to believe versus the very contradiction to those claims. Namely, me. We'd always been attracted to each other, I think--that's what _he_ claimed anyway. It finally led to us snogging in the middle of a detention," she shared this with a free expression that, to Lily, looked breathtaking. She should look that way more often, she thought. "It was all uphill from thereon."

_Not really. Still lost him, didn't you?_

_**I** _ _**swear to Merlin** _ _, I'm going to_ _**demolish** _ _you when I get the chance._

"It sounds wonderful. More than that, its quite uplifting," Lily said, nodding to herself. A though came to her suddenly.

"Well, you can see him again," she pointed out. "He's going to be born in the next few years, isn't he? And, I suspect, though I may be wrong, that you...can't age?"

It is best to leave some things for more proper times. It is always, _always_ stupid to hope for things that cannot be gained again. It has only ever led to loss, a never-finishing dark journey of absence that you've got to endure till the end, once you get on it.

Hermione Granger despaired at the reality of Draco's actual situation. A hopeless situation.

He was now in a place from where he could never reach her, and she knew, that although she'd cried her goodbyes when he had been fading in her arms, it would never be goodbye with them. There would never be an end to their story and to her torment, to what was left incomplete between them.

"You're right," she said after some mental debate, without specifying exactly what she'd confirmed.

As to Lily's latter statement, it was true that she would not age, until she returned to her true place in space and time. The former statement, she did not comment on separately.

Lily smiled at her in encouragement.

Something inside her, in that place where Draco resided, scorched in remembrance and the glory of past moments. It was a wonderful ache, a wonderful charred feeling.

The Head Girl's smile slid off abruptly. "What are _you_ doing here?!"

Hermione turned around...and promptly groaned.

"I _never_ thought I'd see the day our model Head Girl would be off gallivanting in Hogsmeade when the rest of the school attends classes," James Potter said with a sly grin on his face. To his side, Sirius Black stood, lightening gray eyes trained on Hermione's. The brunette witch ignored his obvious perusal.

Lily flushed. "We're not _gallivanting_."

"Having a pint then? Good, we'll join you," Sirius' velveteen voice made itself known. Hermione noted the similarity in the cultured pronunciations of the Black heir and Draco's own clear delivery of words.

Hit by sudden epiphany, Hermione looked carefully between Lily and James, not bothering to hide her inspection. As the two Heads bickered, she noticed a repeating pattern: James' teasing barbs followed rapidly by Lily's usual rebuking and mild belittling. Not that James was minding anything.

Was it time already? It _had_ been their seventh year when Harry's parents had gotten together.

"What say you, Granger?" Sirius asked. She looked around in confusion. Had she missed something he'd been saying?

Sirius looked bemusedly at her lost look and said gently," Hermione--right? I just don't know what I should call you. So, can we join?"

Was she right about the stormy look in his eyes?

_Here we go again,_ the voice muttered, filling her mind with images of a similar pair of eyes looking at her in _that_ way.

Huh, even if he was, she'd heard from Remus about how much of a player Sirius used to be in his day. This was probably him filling his quota of brunettes for the day.

"Hermione's fine. Lily and I were just going to head back up to the castle anyway, so if you guys want a drink, you're welcome to stay," she said.

"I'd much rather have it in the company of a pretty witch than my absent-minded mate." He smirked and gestured to James who'd completely zoned out on whatever Lily was saying and was simply staring at her face with a blissful look in his hazel eyes.

" --her birthday, and we wanted to get out of classes, so _yes_ , James Potter, I'm capable of, and willing to skive off when the occasion calls!"

Sirius picked up on their discussion. "Its your birthday?"

"Um, yeah, but please don't advertise it or anything."

"Happy birthday."

Hermione nodded in acceptance."Thanks."

She was about to add more, but there was an increasing emergency being registered by her brain at that moment. She looked around the half-filled pub, the patrons merrily talking away amongst themselves and roaring out requests to Rosmerta who was rushing around while carrying on a conversation with a man at the bar.

She completed a sweep of the space, taking in the variety of people. Almost a third round made her look closer at a handsome, dark-haired man at a nearby table, who was deep in conversation with another wizard with blond hair.

Her heart started pounding hard, and she stood up abruptly from her chair. She could not look away from him. There seemed to be great roaring in her ears, and as though she had known, as if she had seen this happen with her own eyes, the dark haired man looked up and locked eyes with her.

"Hermione, what's-"

"Are you-"

Broken words reached her but were unable to drown out the recognizing howl in her that made itself known. The wizard continued to stare at her in growing interest, and his dark, dark eyes burned through the sound of screaming that she realized was indeed in her head and which shifted into alignment with a great hiss of acceptance that rose from--she could not understand--either the man or the voice.

The rushing crescendoed and her knees gave way.

She fainted.


	7. Chapter 7

Sirius Orion Black, the _third_ , was not easily intrigued by anything. He had seen so much of the depravities of the human nature in his own family–– _ex_ -family––that he was pretty much numb to things that shocked more impressionable people.

_He_ was certainly not as impressionable as he had been when he had watched his cousin Bellatrix strangle their old house elf, Bilby. He had been six at the time.

Or when he had suffered torture at the hands of his own mother when he had come home after first year for being sorted wrong.

Being sorted into Gryffindor and befriending James and Remus and Peter had been worth it, though.

In his seventh year at Hogwarts, he had begun term expecting to live in the same old haze that existed around anyone who wasn't his best mate or best mate's obsession.

That was before Hermione Granger( what a lyrical name the girl had!) had arrived at the doorstep of his second most favorite place in the world( the first being Potter Manor). His life was officially, infinitely more interesting by the evening of September first than it had been on the morning.

He found himself _intrigued_.

Two days of classes later, James was ready to run off to Hogsmeade with Sirius, Remus and Peter, though the last one was quite absent minded these days and wouldn't have provided any entertainment value. At all.

Sirius had been all for the idea, and despite Remus reminding James that he was _Head Boy_ now, ergo, he had _responsibilities_ , he did not care for the restriction that came unspoken with the badge.

Until he had taken out his invisibility cloak from his trunk, James had dismissed the faint vibration that seemed to be coming from that direction for about two nights now. Or had it been longer?

Now, however, when he fingered the cloak and felt its silky material slip through his hand; the distinct vibrations, the hum, was obvious.

James immediately cancelled their trip. Sirius moped, Remus shrugged and went back to studying and Peter huffed before turning in for the night.

He wrote a letter, instead.

The reply was rushed, and excited, and alarmed. It was from his father, Fleamont Potter, and according to him, his invisibility cloak had detected an anomaly. What kind of anomaly? James wondered with raised eyebrows.

He did not yet know the tale of the Deathly Hallows. But he knew his cloak was special. Special enough, that if it gave off any physical or magical response, the issue was serious.

He started watching the map at night. Obsessively. He did not know what he hoped to find, but something nudged him to follow the little, variously colored dots.

He did find something, at last.

He told Remus. And Sirius. And would've told Peter too, if the boy had been around while the matter was still hot in James' mind.

At first, he thought it was just a disillusionment charm. But the shimmery outline, that was characteristic of the spell, was not there.

It _could_ be a cloak.

It had to be.

It _was_.

Sirius had once happened to glimpse a flash of her apparently 'dainty' ankles through the flapping of her cloak in a gust of wind.

Her cloak could not be summoned. That was the final test.

"Oh my God, Hermione!" Lily cried as she hustled out of her chair and around the table to where Sirius was holding a recently blacked-out Hermione.

"I don't know what happened! She was fine––we were talking and then..." Sirius trailed off and roved his eyes around the pub, most of which was ignoring their little drama apart from ... _him_.

"Who is that wizard, Prongs?" he said instead in a low voice.

James looked discreetly at a sharp-featured, dark-haired wizard with slight wrinkles who was looking at their assembled party with cold interest.

"I don't know."

" _I don't care_. We need to get her to the hospital wing––she's not responding," Lily said urgently after tapping Hermione's cheek.

"Yeah, we do. Prongs?," he said.

"Shack?"

"Hmm."

"What're you two _talking_ about?"

Sirius didn't answer. He lifted Hermione up in his arms, one behind her back and the other holding up her knees and motioned for James and Lily to follow. James was already opening the door to the pub.

Ten minutes later, the trio were walking up to the castle via the Shrieking Shack pathway.

"So, is this one of your secret paths or what?" Lily asked in the darkness broken by their lit wands.

"This is _the_ secret path, Lils. We call it Moony's Path," James said. Her heart gave a little leap when he shortened her name. She ignored it, as always.

"Oh." Then after a few minutes of quiet trudging, "Sirius, are you okay there?"

"Yeah, she's not heavy or anything. Had she been ill, Lily?"

"I don't think so."

"Because, it was pretty freaky. She was standing, one moment and the next - _whoosh_ \- down."

Lily walked on in the squishy mud. She would've slipped several times, if it hadn't been for James, who was keeping one hand lightly at her elbow. Maybe it was the dark, or maybe it was James himself, but she felt little fluttering shivers run up her arm every time he clutched her tighter at particularly treacherous spots.

This was so _hard_. She had convinced herself since forever, that she did _not_ feel anything for the boisterous, incorrigible James Potter––indeed, she did not. But one walk later, and her blood was already singing a different tune.

"What were you two at Hogsmeade for?" she asked.

"Er ... see, we can't tell you." James said, his fingers tightening. "Marauder stuff," he added.

She wanted to scold him. She really did.

"Another prank, then?"

They stopped walking completely. She saw Sirius' pale eyes look at her incredulously as he shifted Hermione up higher in his arms. "Are we not getting lectured on the _at least_ five hundred school rules we're supposedly breaking?"

She tsked. "I'm sure I broke plenty myself. It isn't even the first time––you should've seen us girls in sixth year. We stole an enchanted stereo from Filch and had a party up in the dorm. All nighter. We had one every few weeks."

"I didn't know it was possible for you to get more beautiful, Lily," James blurted out amidst Sirius' guffaws. "Shut it, Pads."

Lily felt her ears heat up. She was sure her cheeks matched her hair in hue perfectly.

"Yeah, well. You Marauders are not the only ones who know how to have a good time, Mr Potter."

They started walking again.

"I'll be sure to keep that in mind, Miss Evans."

Sirius gagged, but was secretly pleased. He had a pretty witch in his arms, and another one was on her way to making James a very happy man. This was as ideal a position as any. The comatose state of the one he was holding was irrelevant; after all, _he_ would be the one who had carried her all the way from Hogsmeade.

"Move it, you two," he snapped without heat in his voice.

She was of average height.

Her brown curls, somewhat wild, were all over the place and thus easy to find in a crowd.

She had large eyes, of a lighter brown than her distinctive hair.

A snub nose rested above a bow shaped mouth, the lower lip slightly more plump than her already full upper one.

These were all the things he catalogued when he first saw her sit at the Gryffindor table after her sorting. He was, after all, a thoroughly visual character. And he had liked what he had seen.

Enough, apparently, that his eyes were sufficiently glued to Hermione Granger for most of dinner. Enough, evidently, to earn a telling off from Lily who had warned him to keep his whoring ways away from the new girl.

Lily had always hated his casual demeanor. Remus insisted that it was one the prime reasons she was unwilling to give James any time of her day. Peter remained un-involved in the whole affair as long as he got his own share of gloating when Lily turned down Prongs, which was so far above 'often', it was not even visible anymore and was more a daily routine than an endeavor on the part of his best mate to secure the girl of his dreams.

Still, he had to give it to James. He was bloody _persistent_.

So it piqued his interest even more when he received said telling off.

What was different this time? He had pondered this in his bed many nights after their return to Hogwarts.

All it did was to make sure that his( at the time) low-key focus was completely on Hermione. And what a conundrum she was!

"What were you talking to that snake Avery for, Peter?"

Peter Pettigrew looked up from digging through his clothes to James Potter, who was looking down at him from where he sat on his bed.

He considered lying. It had been something he had been doing a lot lately. Actually, since last school term when he had gone and sold himself–– _voluntarily_ ––to the darkest wizard of all time. Or at least their time. Oh, what did it matter, as long as he remained the meanest bully in the playground?

"He just wanted to know if I had seen Mulciber and the other snake-crowd," he said nonchalantly, and put forward a query to throw James off his tail. All of them. "Where were you guys all day today?"

Remus looked up from his Arithmancy assignment, where he had been tracing some shapes with a weird looking instrument. "Hogsmeade, obviously. Or they would've known the excitement around the place."

James looked confused. "What're you talking about, Moony?"

"All classes were cancelled today. How else do you think you guys were excused, Head Boy and all? The teachers were so tense all morning––they just sent all students back to their dorms."

"Dumbledore wasn't in the castle today, that's why," Peter added. He immediately wished he hadn't. It had been something discussed only amongst the Slytherins and those students whose parents were affiliated with the Dark Lord. How the hell would poor little Peter know about that?

"Huh, so nobody questioned why the two heads were missing?" James asked, stuffing some candy into his mouth.

"No. All the prefects were there. McGonagall instructed them to take the students back, and that was the last we–– _wait_. You said _two_ Heads," Remus' eyes widened as he spoke.

James grinned. " _Two_ Heads, Moony. _Two_." He held up two fingers. Recounting the events of the day, he sobered up when he relayed how Hermione Granger had collapsed in the Three Broomsticks.

"Is she okay now?" Remus asked, worried. He liked the new girl. She was like Lily sometimes. Kind and polite and considerate, as far as _he_ was concerned. Smart too, as she cast all spells in class perfectly.

Peter looked slightly bored, as if he couldn't care less about the strange witch being talked about. He didn't, but he tried to school his face somehow. James was too busy eating, however, to notice.

"Sirius carried her up. She's with Madam Pomfrey now and I'm sure she'll be up in no time. Though, we all were pretty scared when she went down like that, like a–– a rag doll."

"I'll go see her later," Remus said, determined, and went back to finishing up his homework.

_She_ was currently in the Hospital wing under the express care of Madam Pomfrey.

Sirius sat at her bedside, casually regarding her prone figure. Lily had left a quarter of an hour ago; James too.

As he watched her eyelids flutter––she was dreaming, he thought––he felt his gray eyes drawn to a thin, barely there cut on Hermione's neck. It was a single line, right at the front of her windpipe.

He knew what it was. It was fairly obvious, really.

Someone had held her at _knife-point_. Someone had _put a fucking blade_ at her white throat.

He looked back up at her closed eyes with an inscrutable expression. The play of shadows upon the fine planes of her face accentuated something deeper than her brown eyes usually projected at him. At everyone. He felt compelled to find out what it was that haunted her, that walked her living nightmares.

She came to in a dream, colors and voices echoing in the empty space she envisioned, due to the vast, cavernous feel of the place.

Somebody was calling her name. She turned around to look at whoever it was. Except––

"Miss Granger."

She was in a field. Lush and verdant with life, warm in the sun and housing a plethora of sensations that she doubted were real, because _surely_ , she would've noticed how vibrant life truly was. Apparently not.

"Pay attention, girl!" The voice snapped. It was such a pleasant voice, deep and gravelly. Why did he have to be so pissed off at her? Didn't he know how much her head hurt?

Who was speaking? She felt that she had known him, once.

Black hair floated into her vision, and she realized, startled, that she was lying on her back and staring up at the sky. Fathomless black eyes looked down at her. The man mouthed something, but static–– could that even happen in dreams?–– interrupted his voice.

A shriek cut through the silence and she sat bolt upright, passing right through whoever had been looming over her. Ignoring him, she scrambled to her feet and looked intently in the direction where the sound had originated.

Something closed around her wrist and _pulled_ down. She tried to look down, but _another_ something caught her jaw.

Dark violet color erupted out of the greenery. Her breathing would've been erratic if she knew how to breathe; she was only in her brain, was she not?

Black and violet swirled around her and she felt overcome with a great urgency to look at what was at her feet. Fighting the invisible hand–– for it felt like a hand––she yanked her face downwards.

Whoever he was, seemed to know her. He pointed at her neck, and mouthed something angrily. Straining her ears, she tried to hear him.

When the tugging at her jaw became insistent, she gave up and stared straight into the eyes of the man that she had seen just before fainting at Madam Rosmerta's. But that was not entirely correct. This man was younger. And crueler somehow. She definitely knew who this was.

"Wake up, little Mudblood," he said softly. His fingers squeezed her jaw tighter. There was something in his eyes, something wholly evil that frightened her in a familiar, intimate way.

"Don't listen to him, you silly girl!" The first voice snarled.

The scenery broke like pieces of a badly formed mirror. The two voices climbed up and upon each other, swaying her subconscious from side-to-side.

Severus Snape stared at her in the inky blackness that obscured everything in her mind-scape.

"Miss Granger." He clenched his jaw. " _When_ are you?"

She knew what was happening now, parts of it became clear as some of her lethargy slipped away.

"September of 19––" Something clamped down on her mouth and _pushed_. Her once professor dissolved and his face was replaced with _his_ face, sinister and cruel and seraph-like in beauty.

"––77!" she managed.

Eyes like burning coal singed her when she met them.

"I'm going to make you regret this, Mudblood."

He shoved her face away ... and away ... and away, until _his_ face was still visible due to its pale color amidst the emptiness but all else had faded.

The last thing she remembered when she woke up and recounted to Lily, the potentially game-changing, or rather history-changing event that had occurred and another that was yet to occur, were Lord Voldemort's crimson eyes set in the face of the man that had brutally handled her jaw and played with her mind.


	8. Chapter 8

It did not go the way Albus Dumbledore had envisioned. He'd probably had even more convoluted plans and plots up his flashy sleeves than Hermione would make in her entire lifetime, and that cemented his brilliance. It truly did. It did not however, make him benevolent, or kind, or lend him a trustworthy visage - what with the twinkly eyes and general all-knowing personality, he was, at best - shifty.

How she had failed to factor in his reluctance to share, his dodgy ways of making sure that Harry obeyed him and his failure to capitulate on opportunities that they, Hermione and her friends had taken easy advantage of, was unknown to her. She had simply been too caught up in what was actually going on around her, to worry about the ulterior motives of someone who wasn't supposed to _have_ ulterior motives with regards to children.

Was it all her fault? She was the supposedly smart one. The brains of the Golden Trio. As if Ron and Harry were a pair of moldy pumpkins.

Wasn't she absolutely the most observant girl? Her mother had always insisted so. It _was_ true, up till the point when her nose wasn't stuck in a book.

The Final Battle. The Battle of Hogwarts.

It had gone so strangely, so terrifyingly the way _she_ had expected, that she almost clapped herself on the back.

It had been pretty much okay too, derailing along the way somewhat, a pile of dead bodies in their way, hairy monsters and ghastly beasts-if only someone had offed that bitch, Bellatrix, it would've gone completely _Harry's_ way. Disregarding the bodies, of course.

Everything was on course to becoming the biggest victory ever seen on Hogwarts soil. The teachers, older students, Order members, herself with her boys, had all been ready. The house elves were being mobilized as above, wizards and witches made plans, and inside the Forbidden Forest, all manner of creatures salivated at the prospect of finally attacking Hogwarts.

One long year. On the run. It was finally looking as if all those months of going hungry and worrying about Harry, Draco and Ron would pay off.

Somewhere in Wiltshire, Draco Malfoy was waiting to see Hermione Granger again.

In the wilderness, Hermione was hell-bent on completing Horcrux hunting so she could get back to Draco.

They waited.

Harry waited for Ginny. Ron for his family. Hundreds of wizard-folk on the run waited. People at home waited. In the streets, they looked at the dark sky for one chink in the black armor. They too, waited.

Hogwarts waited.

The castle was abuzz with news of Harry's return. The students gathered then, to fight.

Hermione saw Draco again. He was close, closer than he'd been in a year, if she discounted the night in Malfoy Manor when he had stood by the fireplace and bitten his lips raw and dug his nails into his flesh and watched. As she suffered. She suffered as she'd never suffered before. Pain became a friend, so close was it to every nerve of her body that only a flash of white-blond above her kept her centralized, even as her skin was broken into and carved and reshaped. Forever marked by the truth of her parentage, her perceived inferiority, her thievery of magic.

But that was then. And this was now.

The Room of Hidden Things burnt. Crabbe died. A scrap of Tom Riddle died.

They separated.

What was a girl to do, except look back at her love's face when to her friends, he was neither love nor dear, unworthy of further notice?

She ran.

The Final Standoff.

She was standing across the room from Draco. Her heart tripped over its rhythm to reunite with the beat of the one, that had taught it what it was to truly run faster than hate's hounds, and embrace the love being offered.

As Harry's wand emitted red, Voldemort's emitted green.

The spells rebounded.

Except, when the green should've hit Voldemort, it hit Bellatrix, who had scarpered off during her duel with Molly Weasley.

Another flash of green. Harry dead.

_No, no_ , _nooo. This was not supposed to happen._

Shit had hit the proverbial fan.

A raucous cheer went up from the Death Eaters' side. Another green flash. Another. And another. And another.

She locked eyes with Draco. Her wild hair blew around her from the force of a nearby spell, and she blocked it with a strong shield. As she started to run, at just the very moment when she would've crossed the great divide between them, Narcissa Malfoy came into her field of view.

Narcissa and Lucius had been beside Draco, and only now she noted the grip that both had on their son who was writhing and shouting something unintelligible, as he strained to get to Hermione.

Once more she got to look at him, before Narcissa pulled a wand out, stunned her son and apparated away, Lucius in tow.

He was safe. It was fine, _he_ was safe, and that was all that mattered.

Pandemonium.

Her classmates were dying. These were the people she had breakfasted with, had walked the halls of her school with, had conversed with and connected with, and they were all dying.

Children were dying.

Voldemort did not care anymore about keeping himself separate from the skirmishes, and sent curses and hexes and indigenous spells at anyone he fancied.

The floor shook, the enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall cracked and splintered and rained on the battling forces beneath.

She had to get away. Madly, as if she believed it could really happen, she sent an Avada - her first - toward Voldemort. It missed him minutely, and it caught his attention.

He turned around, black robes billowing around his white face, chalky skin broken between by ruby-red slit-eyes that beat at her in unleashed fury.

A breathy whimper left her throat.

She raised her wand again in his direction. He looked utterly unconcerned, but undeniably furious.

A black force-wave spilled from the edges of his robe and spread outwards. She scrambled back and threw yet _another Avada_ at him. He dodged it, and turned his unwavering attention towards her.

His red eyes bore into her, and as if their crimson fire had taken flight and resettled inside her, a scorching, burning feeling erupted in her mind. She clutched her head and kept her eyes focused on Voldemort who was just standing there, looking at her.

Tension built between them, palpable, physical and it pushed neighboring duelers at least three feet away from the path that connected her to Voldemort.

Just as she saw him gliding towards her, his awful, _awful_ eyes raking over her battered form, a voice birthed itself in her mind.

_Run, little mudblood._ It hissed.

Voldemort smirked at her, all traces of burden gone from his posture as he held out his hands wide in front of him.

"Go, Mudblood," Voldemort ordered. Her shock at being told to flee, to escape, held her frozen.

_Go._

"I will find you when it is time,'' Voldemort continued. "Go. I will find you. When you are half-dead in anticipation, only then will I grant you mercy, the pathetic weakness: death." He swept his hand in a dismissive gesture.

Everyone was dead anyway. Professor McGonagall herself had taken a killing curse for her. Ron was dead. All his family was dead. Remus. Tonks. Lavendar Brown. Seamus Finnigan. Neville. Luna. Cho Chang. Marietta Edgecombe. Dead.

_Dead, dead, dead_. The voice sang. _Now, ruuuunnn_...

She did exactly that.

  


Somehow, she did not think herself a coward. That thought alone made her less of a Gryffindor and more like a Slytherin, more like Draco.

She was okay with fact that she had fled, that she had left people behind. People who had been dead the second they decided to come battling at Hogwarts.

The Sorting Hat had still put her in Gryffindor.

She didn't know what to make of that.

"You know what this means, don't you?"

A pause. Then, "Yes."

"How _could_ you? I'm not agreeing to this, I'll not lose you."

"I'm the only one left. It has to be me. I'm already dying, love."

"That doesn't make sense, we'll find someone else."

"But-"

"I don't want to argue with you over this. We'll find someone else."

Somehow, Severus Snape had survived Nagini's attack.

That made sense. At the very least, it was certainly plausible. As Hermione lay in the Hospital Wing bed, still only half-conscious, she thought about the careful way he used to handle Potions ingredients while giving demonstrations in class. How knowledgeable he was about all the ingredients, their substitutes, the substitutes of the substitutes, and all the different bases for a single potion.

How paranoid he was about his personal stores.

Of course the single-most brilliant Potions professor at Hogwarts would've scoured any and every source for an antidote to Nagini's poison. However he may have achieved that, sneaking around the snake which happened to have two souls, must have been quite ingenuous in its own right.

Sirius watched as Hermione's eyes moved underneath the lids, frantically chasing dreams. He considered going and getting Lily. He did not actually know Hermione, and however much he wanted to change that, getting in her face about the whole 'I carried you from Hogsmeade' thing was not the way to go about it.

He stood up and turned to get away from her bedside, when-

"Sirius?"

He whipped his head around, shaggy black hair swinging with the turn of his head. It was the first time she had spoken his name.

Hermione's eyes were wide open. She fluttered her eyelashes to get rid of some of the bleariness. "What're you doing here?"

This was not supposed to happen so soon. But he really could not keep his mouth shut. "I carried you from Hogsmeade." Then immediately, "How're you feeling?"

She blinked. "Why did you have to carry me up?" She did not yet remember her dream.

"You-you blacked out, I believe. And then, then...then I-" Why the hell was he stuttering? He was not some pansy boy who did not know how to speak to girls.

"Then you carried me?," she asked. He nodded, short and awkward.

"Thank you. Didn't any professor ask questions?"

"There were no professors about when we brought you in. I and Lily and James. I mean, I carried you-"

"So you've said."

"-and they accompanied me."

They fell into silence. Hermione then started to get up, putting her hands down by her sides to brace herself.

"I-I don't think you should..."

"Ah, Miss Granger, you're awake! Don't get up, you've got quite a strained core. You must not agitate it further." The voice of a younger Madam Pomfrey interrupted Sirius. The mediwitch bustled out of her office and headed for the Potion stores at the far end of the wing.

"Mr. Black, kindly leave now. My patient needs to rest." She stated firmly.

Sirius looked at Hermione who nodded lightly. "I'll send Lily up," he said before making a hasty break for the door.

Hermione looked around at the other beds after smirking at Sirius' retreating form. The older Sirius had been quite up-front and brash, and he would not have shown such hesitance as his younger self did just then. No one was about, which was a miracle, since someone with a Quidditch injury was always in the Hospital Wing.

"How long has it been since I came in, Madam?" She called to the mediwitch.

Rifling through different vials, the older witch grabbed what looked like a pain relief potion and an invigoration drought before answering, "It's been almost four days, Miss Granger. Though I must ask, what happened then, has it happened before?"

"Not really." She looked at the bland ceiling of the room, the black supports and the general sterile ambiance.

"It is just as well," Pomfrey said as she approached her bed. She handed her the two vials and motioned for her to sit up briefly. She did so and took the prescribed potions. "Your loss of consciousness was due to a large magical influx, and the days spent in that state were necessary for your core to assimilate the extra energy. I'm rather baffled as to how it might've happened unless you performed some ... _ritual_ of sorts.? "

Hermione shook her head at the stern glare.

"I did nothing, Madam Pomfrey. Will there be any side effects, do you think?"

"This is out of my area of expertise, Miss Granger. I deal with physical injuries mostly and some such. I certainly don't deal with discrepancies in magical _cores_."

She was not going to go and ask _Dumbledore_ for help. The man would muck up her plan within the hour.

But she needed to see someone. Someone she could trust and who would have a similar distrust in the Headmaster.

She was discharged from the Hospital Wing on Thursday evening, just in time for dinner. She followed the tide of students heading to the Great Hall. Somebody with greasy, black hair was walking a few paces in front of her.

She hadn't really interacted with Snape at Hogwarts in this time. Indeed her time as a student under him was the closest she'd ever gotten to the man. Why had he asked her that question in the dream?

She now remembered vividly, the details. Everything except the part about Snape was clear to her. But what she was really interested in was how he had managed to contact her.

It hadn't been just a dream, she knew.

"Hey!"

She looked around from her perusal of the Slytherin and found Lily running up to her. Some Gryffindor girls had been with her, and now she was ditching them to be with Hermione; it was a wholly new concept to her-close female confidence.

She smiled as best as she could.

"How do you feel? Is your head fine? Are you dizzy?" Lily asked, rapid-fire.

"I feel fine now, thanks for helping me back to the castle."

Suddenly Lily threw her arms around her. She caught her easily, and hugged her back tightly. They were both within an inch of each other's height and of similar build.

Lily's face split in a wide smile. "I was so worried!" She stopped and pulled her by the arm into a nearby classroom.

"You didn't wake up like, ever."

"I guess it was a bit much," Hermione said with a small smirk. Lily slogged her in her upper arm.

"Don't joke about it. What if it had been ... you know, serious? It obviously was, but you seem fine _now_."

Hermione held up her hands in surrender. "I'm fine now-more than fine. But that doesn't mean it wasn't serious. We have some things to discuss."

"Come to the Heads dorm with me after dinner. Now, lets go and have some food."

They walked together to the Great Hall, talking about the assignments that Hermione had missed. Lily offered to work together for some of the projects and she agreed. It had been difficult, when she had originally been a student, to have someone as quick as Lily to discuss homework, and how much deeper it went than gaining grades.

She thought less and less about Lily as Harry's mother and more as a friend every moment she spent with her.

They were still talking when they sat and piled food on to their plates. Seated near them were Lily's other friends who were looking as if they wanted to interrupt, but were unsure about how to break the camaraderie that was apparent between the two.

"Granger, good to see you vertical," James said, from his seat near Lily. There was no one between them, but some space had been left, a good few inches.

"Potter," Hermione nodded to him.

A clanging sounded and everyone looked at Sirius who had knocked over a tumbler of pumpkin juice. James snorted and looked at Remus who was smiling at Sirius in a bemused sort of way. Peter guffawed loudly.

"What's wrong with you, Black?" Lily asked.

Sirius looked mildly angry as he mopped up his collar which was splashed with juice. Then he looked up and grinned. "Whatever could be wrong with me? I'm perfection incarnate."

Hermione's lips twitched as she remembered a blond who used to be similarly conceited about his own awesomeness. Surprisingly enough, the memory inspired warmth instead of the usual pain. She was so startled by her own emotions that she missed Sirius asking her, in stuttering phrases, whether she felt better and would be up for an actual Hogsmeade weekend in a few weeks time.

It was Lily's hissed admonition that brought her back to dinner.

"- shut your trap, Black! Didn't I tell you not to impose yourself on her? Honestly, its like your head turns every which way when you 'want some!' "

"What're you saying?" Hermione asked her.

James ducked his head and tried to hide a smile. " Just her usual put-down of my mates."

Hermione looked at the red-head in question. When Lily just shrugged, she hummed in response and they both smiled after a while.

The others around them looked at the wordless exchange with mixed expressions. James actually looked slightly jealous, while Remus smiled and Sirius looked like he wanted in with the girls but was somewhat hesitant when he did not even know what was being talked about, apart from the obvious fact that Lily. Wanted. Him. Away. From. Hermione.

They'd all underestimated the famed Black madness, though, and how it could be turned into laser focus onto whatever said Black wanted.

Whether it was power or money or fame, or even something as easy as sex - due to his mad family being extremely attractive, and that was something that he appreciated, he really did - Sirius was sure he could entice Hermione into ... well, whatever struck his fancy when that happened.

After he got past Lily, of course.


End file.
